Misfortune, Luck, Fate
by Ardonius-Servant-Of-Zeta
Summary: A Misfortunate Princess, A Lucky Demigod, and a FateBound warrior, a story written in molten stone. First Contest Which Fire Emblem is this going to be in?


_In the course of time, many questions have been asked. What is the meaning of life, when did it all start, when shall it end? There seems no way to discover the answers; there are an infinite number of unknowns in the span of reality. How do we know if there is another universe or not? How do we know if life began a hundred billions years ago, or if it will end in the next ten minutes?_

_That is just the thing. No one knows. People learn to accept it, take things for what they are and move on. Some are better at it then others, some like to joke that religion was for those not as good at it._

_The truth, the almighty truth to these questions is a paradox- there is no answer. There is no meaning to life. Life never truly began, and it will never truly end. Everyone secretly knew this, but no one was willing to accept it, and even now subconsciously refuse to, believing that the answer is there…elusive._

_Life always was, and always will be. Life has no meaning; it exists simply for the sake of existing, moving on._

_No life is worth more, good and evil are meaningless concepts._

_One's concept and perception of the world is a constantly skewed one. Emotion, passion, they are powerful things that make life interesting, but they cloud your judgment. It is a rare gift to look at things from an emotionless, logical point of view. To rip apart all your various shaded glasses, and peer at what is truly there._

_When you take those glasses off, looking at the world for what it is, you find something neither good nor terrible. It is a serenity of the highest degree, and a transcending moment for the mind and soul._

_I remember that moment, it was marked by a wash of silver, and my vision exploding with golden pyres and silver winds, world had evolved into something entirely new. I remember power, a feeling similar to adrenaline as it coursed through my veins like liquid steel, molten hot and ecstatic._

_In my minds eye, the voice of god reached my ears. My name he said, and at once, I forgot it__**. "My son, you can never enter heaven, for thy mortal blood forever bar thee way till cold death takes you." **__God's words were musical and melancholy, his sadness pierced my heart from the raw emotion and the understanding of the pain he had endured until now. This epiphany left me even weaker, and I collapsed to my knees._

"_O'Father! To your heavenly home I cannot go, my mortal life is gone, what is left for me? I beseech you, my true father, for your divine advice- what shall I do!" I remember crying, short-lived tears that were batted away by the hand of kindly old man._

_That old man, my father, was glad in clouds; his eyes were suns and his hair the very wind. His skin was the sky, space, and the stars. His true beauty, divinity, and aura cannot be described in any language, for there are no words powerful enough._

_I remember his hand on my head, relief flooding me as he drove sorrow away, despite his very own._

"_**I will always be in your heart, look for me and I will be there."**_

_Then he was gone._

_I wept bitterly, and for years, they dropped like rain. In the heaven's, I was called the Broken Son. A storm that lasted ten years fell upon the valley below me; my sorrow cursed its pools forever, the mark of my shame._

_With what power I had, with what skill I had, I managed to make the curse of the valley marginally bearable, and then I left my world._

_I would never return, to my world or to heaven._

_I left the Broken Son._

_I became the Prodigal Son._

_**Excerpt from "**__The__** Misfortune of a Demigod"**_

_Page III, "Prologue."_

Arkais was dressed in a tattered brown cloak, worn with use and patched here and there with brown cloth of various shades. It obscured his entire person save his face and boots. Despite its lack of obstruction over his face, he had taken care of that by wearing a wide brimmed seaman's cap that, in the heavy rain, made it impossible to discern his features. His boots were made of thick, steel-shod brown leather. A longsword, about three feet long, lay belted at his side. A sealed quiver of arrows and a bow wrapped in leather lay on his back, and a brown pouch –presumably a money pouch- hung at his left side.

Any commoner could tell you he was a mercenary. Any soldier could tell you he was well trained. Any knight could tell you he had seen several battles. Any veteran could tell you to stay out of his way, if you wanted to keep living.

Then again, anyone could tell you to stay out of his way; he was quite imposing at 6' 8", with large, hard muscles that spoke of great strength. His shoulders were broad and his legs long, he was not only built for strength but speed, his natural agility was probably lacking compared to his other attributes, but his battle-hardened reflexes probably made up for it.

The road he initially traveled was dirt and had been quickly abandoned in the rain, choosing instead to cross through the sparse woods for its dubious rain cover, wind protection, and drier footpath. Arkais would lose some time, but he would lose more (and a pair of boots) if he took the normal path.

Finally, the warrior seemed to be satisfied with the time of day, and rummaged around in the small pouch at his side, then inside his cloak. The sky remained stormy, hissing rain and shouting thunder, Arkais paid it no mind. If the storm were serious, it would bare its fangs- jagged teeth that reaped great havoc.

A thicket up ahead provided the perfect place the string up his tarp, and with some creative rigging he had a relatively comfortable campsite, where he made a small meal with a meager fire, then rolled himself up in his cloak and slept.

The next day, Arkais would continue his journey, as would he the next day, and the day after that- a weeklong trip that had been delayed by the storm would soon be at an end. The real question in Arkais's mind was not how long the journey would take.

It was where it would end.

Howdy, this fic I actually intend to finish. Now, the start of this is strange and vague, but I did this on purpose, my own evil purpose that I withhold from you for my own sick amusement.

Now everyone flame away! Arkais needs a big campfire.


End file.
